


Five Times Jack Meets David

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Kings
Genre: AU I suppose, Five Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jack meets David throughout his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Jack Meets David

**Author's Note:**

> A note on the underage warning: Jack is 16 (and David is around that age too). That's part 2 if you want to skip it.

1.

Jack is seven years old and he wants to be a farmer. 

He is spending the summer on his great-uncle’s farm and is quite enamoured with the stable-master, in the way young children often are. The man is teaching him how to ride and in-between lessons Jack follows him around like a lost puppy. The man tolerates it with a fond smile and gives him small tasks to perform, and Jack does them enthusiastically. 

He is in the barn carefully selecting the apples he is going to feed the horses when his mother calls him in. She is frowning and Jack can tell she is upset about something – but he hasn’t done wrong, has he? Still, she makes him sit next to her as she holds court in her uncle’s living room. She tells him it’s a good exercise for when he is king and Jack crosses his arms and looks mutinous. He doesn’t want to be king, that’s boring. He is going to be a farmer and have horses and sheep and dogs. And cows too, because he likes milk. 

An hour passes and he is bored out of his mind, the grown-ups talking about things he doesn’t understand. His sister is so lucky, he thinks – she is still little and she gets to take a nap up in her room. She doesn’t have to sit in on those stupid meetings. No one ever makes _her_ do anything. It’s so unfair.

Jack sighs – a little too loudly if the sharp glance his mother shoots in his direction is any indication – and fidgets in his seat. He looks longingly at the window – he wants to go outside and play – and distracts himself by imagining what it’ll be like on _his_ farm.

He is daydreaming about sunlight and butterflies when the meeting breaks, the adults leaving their seats and walking around the room, talking to one another. Jack makes sure his mom is busy and sneaks out of the room.

He breaks into a run as soon as he is outside and laughs delightedly at his bid for freedom. What is he going to do with the rest of his afternoon? A look inside the stables tells him they’re empty. Jack can’t help but feel a little disappointed – he likes helping out with the horses – but his spirits lift quickly as he gets a new idea. He is going to see the sheep. He likes sheep: the last time he saw them, they let him walk up to them and pet them.

Decision made, Jack orients himself and starts walking.

He walks and walks and walks until he doesn’t know how long he’s been at it, and eventually he has to stop. He is tired and hungry and a little scared because he is sure the sheep weren’t that far away when his uncle took him to see them.

He wants to go home.

So he turns around, intent on going back the way he came, and he panics. He can’t see the house! Why can’t he see the house? It’s a big house and it can’t be that far, can it?

Jack takes off running, stumbling on rocks and moss until his foot gets caught on something and he falls, scratching his hands and knees.

He pushes himself to a sitting position, biting his lower lip to keep the tears stinging his eyes at bay. Daddy told him big boys don’t cry and he knows his father will be disappointed when his vision gets blurry. He sobs, hiding his face in his hands, and the salt in his tears makes the scratches on his palms hurt. He wants to go home. He is lost and he wants his mom and he is going to get eaten by a wolf and –

“Why are you crying?”

Jack looks up, startled by the voice. There is a little boy with golden hair and a puppy peering at him curiously and Jack wipes his face hastily.

“I’m not,” he says stubbornly and silently dares the boy to say otherwise.

“Are you lost?”

Jack nods. He is tired and hungry and his knees hurt. Maybe the boy can help? He perks up at the idea. He is a prince. If the boy saves him he can be a hero, Jack’s knight, just like in the stories!

“Yes.”

“Oh.” The boy frowns for a second and then his face lights up and he grabs Jack’s wrist, tugging him up and forward.

“Come on, we’ll go tell my mom. I’m David, I’m eight, and that’s Bettsy -” he points at the puppy bounding next to them “- she’s still a baby. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jack,” Jack says, looking at his saviour with wide eyes. He sure talks a lot!

“Do you have a dog?” the boy – David – asks and Jack finds himself looking longingly at the puppy.

“I had one but it made my sister sick so I had to give him back,” he explains and David wrinkles his nose.

“Girls are stupid,” he says wisely and Jack agrees whole-heartedly. “ _I_ have six older brothers – but they’re stupid too.”

Jack doesn’t know how to answer that – he’s always thought having an older brother would be kind of nice but his mom says it’s important to be polite and so instead of contradicting David he asks: “Is your house far?” and David points at something in the distance.

“We’re almost there,” he says and Jack stops, squinting against the setting sun and– there it is! He can see it now! Relief floods him and he hurries to catch up with David, not wanting to be left behind. That’s when a huge shadow crosses their path and picks David up, throwing him over its shoulder.

David squeals, arms and legs flailing, and Bettsy starts barking like mad.

Jack freezes and looks on – what’s _happening_?

“There you are!” the giant says. “You know you’re not supposed to leave the garden. Mom was worried sick!”

“Eli!!! Put me down!” David yells, struggling valiantly against the man.

Jack’s scared but he’s got to do something – David saved him so now it’s his turn to save David. And he is a prince, people have to listen to him.

“Put him down,” he orders and the giant gawks at Jack with surprise before bursting into laughter. But he does put David down and Jack moves to stand side by side with him, glaring at the man. Why is he laughing anyway?

“Who is your friend, David?”

“Oh, that’s Jack!” David says excitedly, no trace of rancour in his voice. Jack thinks David is a little strange. “He is lost.”

“Well, come on then. Mom is looking for you everywhere.”

They all troop towards the house, Jack following Eli a little cautiously and sticking close to David. He wonders if _his_ mom is worried. Is her meeting over yet?

They meet David’s mother in the kitchen and she fusses over David, reminding him he isn’t allowed to walk that far on his own. Jack is kind of glad he did though, or he wouldn’t have found him and maybe he would have _died_ , and he solemnly tells her so.

David looks at him like he is the best thing in the world when his mother turns away from him to stare at Jack. She takes in his bloody palms and knees and immediately starts fussing over him instead – much to Jack’s dismay –, making him sit down in a chair and ordering Eli to fetch the first aid kit.

She dabs the wounds with antiseptic while David hovers nearby and it stings but Jack doesn’t cry – he isn’t going to cry in front of _David_ , David’s his hero! Then she gives them both milk and a sandwich and says she’s going to call the Sherriff.

“What’s your last name, sweetie? Do you know where you live?” she asks and when Jack answers her eyes widen and she pales a little.

“David, why don’t you take Jack to the living room? You’ll be more comfortable there.” Her voice sounds a little strangled but Jack’s used to that. People sometimes behave strangely around him.

David drags him to the couch and Bettsy joins them, stretching out next to Jack. She’s a warm weight against his side and David is another and Jack is suddenly very tired. The emotions of the afternoon have worn him off and now that he is safe and warm and fed it’s getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. David babbles on next to him, talking about his father who is fighting in the war and about Bettsy’s mom who is going to have more babies and the words wash over Jack, lulling him closer and closer to sleep. Eventually David’s own adventures make him sleepy too and the words stop and Jack closes his eyes.

 

When the royal guards come to pick Jack up, they find two little boys and a puppy tangled on an old couch, fast asleep.

 

2.

Jack is sixteen and angry at the world.

First they sent Andrew away for no good reason and now they ship _him_ off to this shit-hole for the entire holidays!? He doesn’t deserve this! There is nothing to do here and he is bored out of his fucking mind. If he has to listen to his great-uncle ramble one more time about Jack’s aspirations to become a farmer when he was a child, he’s hitchhiking back to the city!

He escapes the stifling atmosphere of the house as often as he can, on foot or on horseback – usually the latter so he can cover more ground and pretend no one would find him if they actually bothered to look for him.

A week in he discovers a cove whose only inhabitants are birds. The sand is hot under the shade of trees and he spends most of his time there. He brings his books and lazes under the sun that burns his fair skin. It’s not so bad after all, he reflects occasionally – not that he would ever admit to that out loud. They leave him alone to do as he pleases and no one tries to suck up to him to garner some favour from his father.

A most welcomed change.

On the second week, however, something changes. One day he’s in his favourite spot reading a military manual when he hears something out of place. The next day he is taking a swim in the ocean when he sees a flash of colour in the corner of his eye. Both times he stops what he is doing and strains his senses to pinpoint what got his attention in the first place but try as he may he can’t find it again. So he tells himself he’s being paranoid – that seems to be a family trait – and forgets about it until it happens again.

After a few days Jack stops trying to figure it out and starts ignoring his invisible stalker. There’s been no picture in the press and he hasn’t been murdered yet so whoever they are, they’re harmless. It’s probably some teenage girl too in awe of him to show herself, he thinks with a smirk.

Then one day, roughly a week after it first started, he hears something new: a dog, barking, and a distinctively male voice trying to shush it without much success.

“I can hear you, you know!” He shouts without bothering to turn his head towards the sound and the sudden stillness that follows his statement makes him roll his eyes.

After a few more seconds of hesitation a tall shape detaches itself from a tree and approaches, a penitent-looking dog following. The boy hovers a few feet away from Jack, uncertain of his welcome, and Jack wastes no time in enlightening him.

“That’s my spot,” he says. He comes here to be alone and brood and he really doesn’t want to have to deal with loyal subjects fawning over him.

“That’s my mother’s land,” the boy argues back, standing straighter and looking at Jack in the eyes for the first time.

Jack blinks, unused to have anyone talk back at him, and bites back the urge to inform him not so kindly that, unless he’s unknowingly stumbled into Gath’s territory, it’s _his_ father’s land, thank you very much. But his mother’s always said to be gracious and he is at an age where he still listens to her. So he grits his teeth and goes with:

“Where is your father?”

Not that he actually cares or anything but if he makes small talk maybe the guy won’t rush to the nearest tabloid to tell them Prince Jack is an asshole and his mom won’t be cross with him.

“He died – in the war.”

Well, fuck. Now Jack feels embarrassed and he hates that. And the guy is looking like he might cry and Jack has got to do something.

“Sorry,” he mutters before striking back in a pure stroke of genius: “You’ve been stalking me.”

No reason why he should be the only one feeling embarrassed, right? Let’s not forget who is in the wrong, here.

The guy blushes and Jack mentally congratulates himself for a job well done. He might look mortified but at least he isn’t on the verge of tears anymore.

“Sorry about that,” the boy says sheepishly, running a nervous hand through his hair as he wets his lips. Jack finds himself following the gesture with his eyes before he catches himself and _stops_ , hoping his tan will cover his blush. “It’s just... I’ve never seen anyone here before and you look kind of familiar -”

Jack snorts. Like he’s never heard that one before – granted, it’s usually accompanied with a coy smile and a flutter of eyelids, from girls way too young to wear that much cleavage or, on a few memorable occasions, from their mothers.

The guy forges on though, looking somewhat confused by Jack’s reaction. “- and I didn’t want to disturb you. Are you here on vacation?”

It’s Jack’s turn to be confused. Does that guy really not know who he is? Jack’s never thought of himself as conceited before but for as long as he can remember perfect strangers have come up to him to say a few words – used to freak him out when he was little. It’s quite a novel situation to meet someone who seems unable to place him.

Jack thinks he likes it.

“Yes. I’m Jack,” he offers, hunting for a spark of recognition on the guy’s face but there is none and he is pleased.

“David. I live a couple of miles west from here.”

They shake hands and David’s dog decides to come to say hello too, slobbering all over Jack’s face enthusiastically and ignoring David’s mortified “Bettsy!” It startles a genuine laugh out of Jack and he finds himself thinking this vacation might not be a total loss after all.

 

They develop something of a routine after that. For the next month Jack spends most of his days at the cove and David joins him for an hour or three, depending on how many chores he has to do back home. They talk – well, David talks and Jack listens avidly, his own experiences so far away from David’s that his stories seem almost exotic, like those of foreign diplomats.

David talks about home, about his six brothers and about his mother. He talks about wanting to see the capital once it’s finished and about his dream to join the army and how it’ll hurt his mother. And Jack finds himself talking back sometimes, about his own family – circumspectly – and what it’s like to live in the city.

He likes listening to David talk. In fact, he likes David. He catches himself watching him surreptitiously more often than he cares to think about, mesmerized by the way seawater clings to his chest when they’ve gone swimming and the way the sun likes to caress his face and makes his hair shine and –

“You want to be a soldier?”

Jack starts guiltily, the voice jerking him out of his daydream.

“What?”

“Your book.” David points towards the manual Jack hasn’t made much progress with ever since David started spending more and more time with him – in fact its only use these days is as a cover for all his David-watching. He just has to remember to turn a page now and then.

Jack frowns, a little taken aback by the question.

The thing is, he doesn’t know how to answer it. Everyone always assumes. No one has ever bothered to ask _him_ what he wants to do before – or when they have, it was with a patronizing tone that told Jack they weren’t really listening to his answer.

But David sounds genuinely interested and Jack thinks maybe he has a friend. A friend he just might be in love with, and the startling but not completely unexpected revelation is quickly overshadowed by the sure knowledge that his father can never know. And he is glad, fiercely glad that David lives so far away and will never be subjected to his father’s too-knowing eyes. It doesn’t matter if David is straight or just not interested – his father must never know of David, must never know of the _idea_ of David.

“I don’t know yet,” he answers truthfully, not adding that he won’t have a choice one way or another anyway. 

“Well, if you do maybe we’ll serve together,” David says with a blinding grin and Jack’s heart misses a beat.

Oh, he is so screwed.

 

He is still a little light-headed from so many discoveries when he gets back to his great-uncle’s farm that evening and the sight awaiting him has the effect of a dozen cold showers.

There are six cars parked outside, a handful of royal guards lazing around, and that can only mean one thing.

Jack takes care his horse first, delaying the inevitable for as long as he can. But eventually he can’t stall anymore and he heads inside with his heart in his throat. Strange, isn’t it, that he didn’t want to come here in the first place and now he doesn’t want to leave?

His mother greets him with a smile and a kiss, fussing over his sun-burnt skin and how much he’s grown over the summer. She looks at him shrewdly and he wonders if she can tell, if she can _see_. He breaks away from her gaze, pretexting the need for a shower before dinner, and only starts breathing again when he locks the bathroom door behind him.

 

The next day he is staring morosely at nothing when David sits next to him – a little too close, Jack can’t help noticing, but then David always sits too close. He doesn’t know what that means.

“I’m going home tomorrow,” he says and David’s face falls.

“Already?”

Jack shrugs and throws a rock in the sea. They watch it sink, watch the ripples it creates and keep watching long after they’ve faded back into the soothing rhythm of the waves, both lost in thoughts.

Eventually Jack breaks the stillness, turning towards David. Whatever words he is going to say die in his throat when he meets David’s eyes and he has to swallow around the lump in his throat. They stare at each other, suddenly shy and unsure, until Jack throws caution to the wind and kisses him.

It’s a dry almost chaste kiss, David’s chapped lips barely touching his, until David takes in a sharp breath and his hands come up to frame Jack’s face, the kiss turning hot and wet and perfect. His tongue pushes into Jack’s mouth, possessive and clumsy at the same time, and Jack moans into his mouth, wrapping his arms around David to bring them closer. 

There is a frantic edge to their actions, fuelled by the knowledge that this is all they’ll have, and when David breaks the kiss so that they can both catch their breath Jack whimpers in protest, the sound so unlike himself he doesn’t realize he is the one making it.

He’s kissed girls before – lots of them – because that was expected of him and because he could never quite work up the courage to kiss a boy. 

Kissing David is nothing like kissing girls.

“Jack…” David sighs, panting against Jack’s opened lips, and Jack tilts his head up to bring their mouths back together.

The angle is awkward and it makes his neck ache a little but Jack barely notices. Until David rises to his knees and he tries to follow, tries to keep them fuse together because he doesn’t want David to go. But David won’t let him and Jack is puzzled for a split second until David’s hands land on his shoulders and he uses his leverage to push him onto his back. The sand parts beneath him, cradling him like his body cradles David’s when he moves on top of him.

David has the best ideas.

Jack groans, his nails digging into David’s arms. He didn’t know it would be like this, didn’t know it _could_ be like this. And he doesn’t know what to do, his inexperience dampening his arousal a little and frustrating him to no end, but then David’s hand strokes bared skin, his thumb lingering on a nipple, and all of Jack’s hesitancy turns into heated boldness.

His thighs part instinctively to bring David closer and Jack arches against him, bringing their clothed erections together. It startles a gasp out of them both and David presses open-mouthed kisses down his throat while Jack buries his hands in his hair, moaning as he trusts up again and again and again, completely out of control. But it just feels so good, _so good_ , and then David is pulling back, pulling away and _why_? 

“Can I?” David says, his voice raw and feverish as his fingers trail against the waistband of Jack’s pants, and it takes Jack a couple of seconds to understand what he is talking about.

“Yes, _yes_!” He nods frantically, reaching for David’s pants in an effort to help, to speed things up. There is no finesse in his execution, no trace of the well-bred prince, just triumph and thrill when he wraps his hand around David’s cock, barely registering David doing the same.

Then David is batting his hand away and falling back on top of him, pining him down and grounding against him, skin to skin and cock to cock, and it’s too much, too much –

Jack comes with a shout, sobbing and shaking against David. He distantly feels David thrusting against him once, twice, before he stiffens and comes as well, the sound of his release muffled by Jack’s skin.

They lay panting on top of one another until David raises himself up on his elbows, pushing sweaty hair out of Jack’s brow and kissing him slow and deep.

 

They may only have this day but they’re going to make it last as long as they can. And who knows? God willing, maybe they’ll meet again.

 

3.

Jack is twenty-two and he is radiant.

He’s standing at attention with the rest of the company beside him. His men. His brothers.

“Congratulations, Captain. You’ve earned it,” his CO says, his eyes sparkling with something that looks a lot like pride, and Jack fights the huge smile that’s threatening to break on his face long enough to salute and shake his hand.

Then the tent goes wild, everyone hooting and slapping his back, and even the impersonal letter of congratulation he got from his father – penned by Perry no doubt – can’t dampen his excitement.

He’s earned this. By himself. No preferential treatment, no meddling parents, just him. Through blood and sweat and hard work, aching muscles and sleepless nights. He never dreamt he would have this, something he liked and was good at, yet here he stands, listening to _his_ men cheer him on for making captain and he feels blessed.

He’s found a place for himself among these men. They’ve accepted him as one of their own and he’s earned their respect, for who he is and what he can do – not for who his father is. And that’s one of the best feelings there is.

 

They’re off duty ‘til 1200 the next day and so they take one of the buses that transport military personnel to and from the front lines and head for the nearest town still standing to a little R&R. They find a bar and Jack buys the first round, and throughout the evening each and every one of his men insists on buying him another. Soon one drink turns into twelve turns into twenty, at which point Jack’s nicely buzzed – he may hold his liquor damn well but even he’s got limits. It doesn’t matter though: he’s safe here. In this room they’re all equal. They leave their rank at the door, an unwritten rule that allows them to blow off steam and relax, forget that the war is only an hour away.

Jack’s feeling mellow and happy, the alcohol loosening his posture as he sprawls in his seat, legs spread a little too wide and one arm flung over the chair’s back. All he needs to make this night perfect is a good fuck and when he says as much his men whoop and whistle.

He’d never sleep with one of his but theirs isn’t the only company off duty tonight and so he lets his eyes wander, looking for someone who will catch his interest. 

“How about this one, Cap?” Mitchell nudges him with a grin, pointing towards a lone man at the bar.

Jack nods and slaps Mitch on the back. He noticed him when he first came in – who wouldn’t? He’s gorgeous, with his blond hair and handsome face. A country boy, with rough hands and a strong body. A good boy, someone any mother would be glad to see her daughter bring home.

He’s just Jack’s type.

And from the way the man’s been eyeing Jack all evening, Jack is his.

“Don’t wait up,” he tells his men with a leer as he gets up, eliciting another bout of catcalls and colourful suggestions.

Jack flips them off good-naturedly – fuck, but he loves his men – and makes his way towards the bar.

“I’m Jack,” he says as he sidles up to the man, leaning against him a little.

“David,” the stranger answers and Jack smiles.

“Nice to meet you, David. Want to get out of here?”

David’s eyebrows go up and Jack shrugs unapologetically. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it. There’ll be time for romance when the war is over.

“Sure,” David finally answers, downing the rest of his beer as he gets to his feet. There’s heat in his eyes and he brushes deliberately against Jack when he pushes away from the bar. 

Jack smirks.

This is going to be fun.

 

It’s easy to find a room – the region doesn’t attract a lot of tourists these days and it’s not like Jack can’t afford it. He’s barely closed the door behind them before he finds himself crowded against it, David’s hands grasping his hips as he kisses him, hot and hard and enthusiastic. Not wanting to be outdone Jack grabs the back of his neck and pulls him closer, angling his head just right and stroking his tongue just so. David is hard and humping his thigh in no time and Jack grins inwardly: if there is one thing he knows how to do – besides soldiering – it’s kissing. He loves to make them come apart just like that, with his mouth and tongue and teeth.

David has other ideas, his fingers unclasping Jack’s belt and pushing inside eagerly, making Jack jerk against him. The back of his head hits the wall with a solid thump, leaving him gasping and seeing stars.

“Fuck,” he swears, both from the pain and the sight of David sinking to his knees, his lips already swollen from the kiss closing around his cock. “ _Fuck_!”

He bangs his head against the wall again, hoping that the pain will help him to regain some control – it wouldn’t do to have a country boy undo him like this – but then David starts sucking and any hope he had of retaining some composure goes right out of the window.

It’s not like he’s never had blowjobs before. He has. Lots of time. But there is something about David – or something about his mouth – that makes Jack’s body sing. Makes him moan wantonly and bury his fingers into soft blond hair, makes him _beg_ , and if he wasn’t too far gone to care Jack would probably be appalled.

He comes almost embarrassingly fast, feeling dazed and light-headed, and doesn’t even protest when David kisses him again, sharing his come with him.

Doesn’t protest when David undresses him and presses him down on the bed. Doesn’t protest when David pushes two lubed fingers into his ass, the slight pain bringing him back to the present. And even then his body betrays him and he spreads his thighs wider and –

“Come on, come on!” he orders (pleads) and David chuckles – “Pushy” – and obliges, pressing his cock inside and forcing Jack open and yes! Just like that!

David fucks him hard and deep, relentless, and Jack buries his moans into a pillow until David wrenches away, leaving him empty and uncomprehending even as he tugs him onto his back.

“Wanna see you,” David moans and he pushes back into Jack’s loosened hole, startling a cry out of him. “Wanna hear you.”

And Jack doesn’t think to protest, too lost in the feeling of David to realize he’s never been this exposed before. He pulls David down and kisses him, kisses him as David’s rhythm falters and grows uneven and kisses him as he comes, moaning and shaking against him.

 

“We should do this again sometime,” Jack says a little later when they’ve both caught their breath and cleaned up a little.

David laughs, a bright happy sound. “Anytime.”

But first they have a war to go back to.

 

4.

Jack is twenty-six and all hell breaks loose around him.

“Take cover!” he yells and his men spread out, scattering into shell holes.

They’re surrounded and Gath is everywhere but they’ll be fine. They’ve got air support on the way and Gath won’t know what hit them in a second.

Except…

Minutes pass as they hold their ground as best as they can, waiting. Jack watches his men fall around him, one after the other, and through it all he keeps thinking it’ll be okay. They’ll be okay. Their planes are coming, they were just behind them a moment ago – they just need a little more time to get there…

He tells his men as much, tries to keep their morale up all the while watching the skies with growing despair, and still there is nothing.

“Where is my damn air support?” he screams into the radio and gets no answer.

And that’s when he realizes no one is coming.

He looks at his men, dead or dying around him, and wonders when everything went so wrong. How did Gath know they’d be here? It’s not unusual to stumble upon a patrol but there are at least four of their units out there. Did they shoot their support out of the sky? Are they after _him_?

Jack shakes himself. Now isn’t the time for questions. Support or no support, they’re sitting ducks and they need to get out of here. Now.

He opens his mouth to yell an order and pain explodes in his head. He goes down hard and everything goes dark.

 

He comes to in the back of a trunk and barely manages to roll onto his side before he retches, dry heaves that make his throat hurt and his head throb.

He falls back onto his back, biting back a whimper, and tries to take stock of the situation. He’s in a moving vehicle, each bump of the road jarring his head and making the pain flare, and his hands are tied.

“Are you awake, captain?”

Oh, and he isn’t alone either.

“Williams?” he asks, cracking an eye open and immediately regretting it. What the fuck happened to his head? “You okay?”

“Bullet wound to the right arm, sir. I’m okay.”

“Good,” Jack says. “The others?”

A hesitation then: “They didn’t make it.”

Grief stabs through Jack and he tries to breathe through it, forcing himself to focus on the here and now. He is a soldier and no stranger to losing men, unfortunately. But it’s hard, it’s so damn hard! There had been fifteen of them on that patrol, his _brothers_ , gone.

Jack licks suddenly dry lips and tastes blood.

He reaches up, trying to find the source of the bleeding but Williams stops his questing hand.

“Don’t touch, sir. I think you got shot – bullet just grazed your head. Damn lucky.”

Right. Lucky. Jack doesn’t feel very lucky right now.

“Any idea where they’re taking us?” he asks, trying to keep his mind busy.

“No, sir. They didn’t say anything.”

Which means they probably didn’t recognize Jack with blood covering half his face. The security will be minimum and they can make a break for it…

As soon as his head stops hurting so damn much and he stops seeing double.

The truck comes to a stop and there are hands grabbing him, jerking him upright and pulling him out of the truck. Jack feels bile rising again and there are stars dancing in front of his eyes, but he grits his teeth and doesn’t pass out.

They drag him into a tent, force him to his knees and rebound his hands behind his back. A medic peers at him and puts a bandage on his head before moving on to Williams. They put hoods over their heads and leave them alone.

They kneel in silence, Jack’s grip on consciousness flimsy at best. In his most lucid moments he tells himself they’ll be okay. His father will never negotiate for their return, he knows that – and damn if that doesn’t burn a hole in his stomach –, but that won’t stop him from mounting a rescue operation. That’s not giving in to Gath’s demands, that’s showing their military strength and ridiculing the enemy.

Help will come.

And it does.

He doesn’t remember much of the rescue itself. He remembers a man, tall and brave and fearless. He remembers running and gunfire piercing his skull and more running. He remembers the man leaving them and then stumbling into lookout, excited voices all around him, and that’s when he stops fighting and lets darkness take him again.

He’s safe.

 

The next thing he is aware of is being in a moving truck. He almost groans out loud – not again! But it’s different this time. There is a comforting hand on his shoulder and a soothing voice in his ear, telling him he’ll be okay and that everything is going to be fine.

He listens to that voice and keeps the words close to his heart, even after the hand’s gone.

“Shepherd!” someone yells and Jack latches onto the name.

Shepherd. 

He’ll remember.

 

5.

Jack is thirty-two and he wants to be a farmer. Or a soldier.

And for the first time in his life that actually matters.

He stands in the back of the church and watches as David is made king. He barely made it back in time, the royal summon that came two days ago to call him back from his exile making it a very tight fit indeed but he is here now and that’s all that matters.

Reverend Samuels places the symbolic crown on David’s head and the new king shines, the clouds parting to let the sun give him God’s blessing. He is beautiful and Jack’s heart constricts at the sight. It’s been two years. Two years since he’s seen David, two years of missing him and loving him and trying to forget him. Two years since his father sent him away for interfering with his plans to have David killed one time too many. Oh, he didn’t phrase it like that of course – no, it was a great honour for Jack to go and represent his country across the sea, a great opportunity to learn, and he toped his speech with thinly veiled mentions of shameful behaviour the press latched on, promptly forgetting all about the freak accident that should have cost their darling David his life, had he been in that car.

His father made him choose between David and his family, between David and his kingdom. Jack chose David and spent the next couple of years fearing he would learn of David’s death in the morning papers.

But no more.

“I give you King David,” Samuels booms as David turns to face the court, as magnificent as Jack knew he would be, and it’s done.

David is king.

Jack isn’t.

The weight he’s been carrying on his shoulders for three decades finally lifts, making him light-headed with relief and pride and sorrow.

David makes his way out of the church and Jack watches him. He holds his breath, hoping David will see him, hoping he won’t – a lot can happen in two years – but then David spots him and his face lights up. For a split second it looks like David might leave the carefully ordered procession to head straight for him but at least he’s learned some decorum in the years Jack’s been away and he doesn’t. Jack’s heart is beating like crazy and he finds himself grinning like a lunatic even after David is long gone.

The church is empty now and Jack leans back against the cool stones, trying to rein in his foolish heart.

He is finally home.

 

The reception is held at the palace and Jack finds himself shying away from the party. They’re all staring at him, expecting him to be bitter and resentful, to oppose David for taking on the mantle of power that was meant to be his.

They don’t understand a thing.

He drifts from empty room to empty room, the irony not lost on him. Years ago a green and wet-behind-the-ears David was doing the exact same thing while Jack navigated the crowd smoothly. How far they’ve both come.

“Jonathan.”

The voice startles him out of his thoughts and he turns, not surprised to see Reverend Samuels standing behind him. The man is the only one who ever uses his given name, much to Jack’s distaste.

“Reverend.” He inclines his head in greetings and almost jerks away when Samuels’s hand comes up to touch his forehead briefly in blessing. Air leaves his lungs in a shocked whoosh and he stares at the man with wide eyes, wondering what’s come over him. 

Then Samuels grips his shoulder tight, demanding Jack’s undivided attention.

“Remember,” he says solemnly, “you are God’s gift.”

One of Jack’s eyebrows rises dubiously. He isn’t a man of faith and Samuels’s always talked in riddles. It used to frustrate him to no end when he was little – in a flash he recalls the number of times Samuels has said the exact same words to him – but as he grew older he learned that it was easier to just humour him. 

He keeps his peace, not bothering with a sarcastic come-back even though he thinks Samuels is talking gibberish. God’s gift to whom? It doesn’t make any sense – never has. His father certainly never thought so.

But then Samuels steps away with a pleased look on his face and there is David, standing in the doorway and staring at him, looking flushed and happy and – oh.

Oh.

They meet half-way across the room and David’s arms close around him, pulling him into a rough hug. Jack lets out a shaky breath, half-sob and half-laugh and he buries his face in David’s shoulder, taking a deep breath.

This is it. This is the moment he has lived for, hoped for, for the past two years. 

They’ve won.

“I’ve missed you,” David whispers against his neck. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He presses kisses against his skin and Jack lifts his head and their lips meet. The kiss starts sweet and tender and soon turns hot and hard and desperate as they try to fill the void their absence has left in the other.

When the world swims back into focus and they’re whole again, they’re clutching at each other, foreheads pressed together as they try to calm their laboured breathing.

Jack kisses David’s forehead, offering a silent blessing of his own and David sighs, at peace once more.

“Don’t you have a party to go back to?” Jack eventually asks, pulling away and looking down at their creased suits with a hint of a smirk, and David wrinkles his nose.

“You’re coming with me,” he says, both plea and threat, and Jack squeezes his hand in answer.

He lets David lead him back to the party and doesn’t let go of his hand.

 

They have a new world to build and it’s going to be beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
